I'm just going to type exactly what I wrote in my paper diary after I got on the bus a half hour later. She had a German accent.

her: You look sad. Are you sad?
me: No.
her: Maybe you are sad about going somewhere, or about saying goodbye?
me: No -- I'm coming back tonight.
her: Are you in love?
me: [smiling] Yeah.
her: That's nice. How old are you?
me: Twenty-five.
her: I'm fourty-seven. But that's nice. I remember that.

She tells me she's going to Newport (Oregon) to get "her documents" which were stolen.

me: How were they stolen?
her: Oh, that's a good question.

She has a large bruise on her inner forearm and a band aid on her shoulder. She is wearing a sleeveless shirt, pants, no jacket (thought it's chilly), no luggage.

I'm taking stuff out of my bag to get some pills that had spilled. Notebook, bandana, keys.

She looks at the stuff and says:

"All those... [mmphf]... Sometimes it's better to leave doors open."

me: What?

She points to my keys and says, "Sometimes doors are better open."

me: Yeah... [picking up my keys]... I don't even know what most of these are for, except my car key. These others I don't remember.
her: Maybe you shouldn't say that.
me: What?
Her: Maybe you should remember.
me: [picking up keys] Well this is my bike lock key, this is for a storage space I don't have anymore, these are for a house I don't live in anymore, and these are for an apartment I don't live in. I guess I should take these off.
her: Yes.

We talk about cities. Portland, Seattle, Newport. She doesn't like Newport. I ask why. She says a German word I don't understand and says, "Do you know what that means?"
me: No.
her: You know in a war, like World War One, or especially World War Two, afterwards, the ruins, the people... [I can't remember -- something about ruins reminding people of the horrors, and how the ruins stay anyway afterwards, as a reminder.]

her: That's what Newport is like.
me: Like after a war?
her: Yes.
me: I've been to Newport, it seems nice. You mean real ruins, like buildings?
her: No, not buildings. More in the mind.
me: Just for you, or for everyone?
her: Hard to say.
me: How do you feel about Portland?
her: It's better. It's bigger, more diverse, people accept more things. Things have a chance in Portland that would never even make it to Newport.
me: That's how Portland is for me. Too much bad stuff. I had to leave.
her: Where do you live?
me: Not really anywhere.
her: What?
me: Well I was living in Portland but I put all my stuff in storage and left. We're just staying in a hotel here and working... So where do you live?
her: [dodges question] My physical address is in Newport, so that's the only place I can get my documents replaced.
me: Where are you from?
her: Oh, don't ask that, not now.
me: OK.

I felt like the conversation was so important, like she had wisdom and if I asked the right question I might find an amazing answer. Like what she said about the keys -- fucking brilliant. Then the bus arrived.

me: Well it was nice talking to you. What's your name?
her: Ella.
me: That's a pretty name. My name is Becky. [I get up to leave]
her: See you later.